History of Hungarian motoring under one roof
You can't miss the Közlekedesi Museum situated at the end of a leafy suburb a couple of kilometres away from the Kelepi main train station in Budapest. From a distance, a 1930s monoplane beckons invitingly from one of the extensive building's flat roofs.
You can't miss the Közlekedesi Museum situated at the end of a leafy suburb a couple of kilometres away from the Kelepi main train station in Budapest. From a distance, a 1930s monoplane beckons invitingly from one of the extensive building's flat roofs. On the ground, various train engines, carriages and other locomotive paraphernalia serve as a mouth-watering appetiser of what to expect from within the spacious halls.
The museum, set up in 1896 in connection with the Millennium Exhibition, houses one of Europe's oldest transport collections. The original railway section has evolved to become a seamless exhibition of relics, traditions and history of bicycles, motor cycles, motor cars, shipping, aviation, and space travel, all organised meticulously and spread over various storeys. When I visited the museum in early March, there was a special exhibition to celebrate 50 years of man's adventures in space, starting with the launching of a Russian Sputnik in 1957.
Various rockets and spaceships, belonging to lunar missions both manned and unmanned, were displayed in one of the halls.
There were a variety of 19th century horse-drawn omnibuses, a unique collection of wooden bicycles made between 1820 and 1870 before the arrival of the penny farthing, and a fleet of 30 old motorcycles, among which two rare 1907 and 1912 Puchs stood out.
I spent most of my visit touring in the automobile section, which is closely linked with the triumphs, trials and tribulations of Hungary's development.
Motor traffic in Hungary began in 1895, with the registration of the first ever motor car, and five years later the Hungarian Automobile Club - instrumental in the evolution of local motoring - was founded. As part of the prosperous Austrian Hungarian Empire, traffic soon boomed, and this is reflected in a variety of old models on show, including a 1898 and 1901 Peugeot, a 1902 Opel Darracq, and a 1905 Csonka.
The economy took a turn for the worse after World War I, a situation which continued with the onset of the great depression in the 1920s. However, in the 1930s, Hungary saw an economic revival, clearly demonstrated by the fact that all the major European and American car manufacturers began to set up sales agencies in the country. Ford, Austin, BMW and Lanca were some of the big names which set up shop there, and some of their brands also grace the automobile hall. By 1939, there were more than 18,000 registered cars in Hungary, and the country could boast of having established a modern motoring service network.
However, World War II saw the complete destruction of the whole fleet of motor vehicles, trucks and buses.
Transportation of goods was entrusted to horse-drawn carriages. After the hostilities ceased, the transport system was overhauled, and under communist rule, all private companies were nationalised.
In 1949, a national motoring plan saw the restart of importation of new cars.
But the picture now was totally different. With centralisation and the tightening of the economy, there were only 8,500 registered cars in Hungary in 1950, and they were restricted to a collection of difficult-to-pronounce names, most of which today form part of the history of communist cars. The streets of Buda, Pest and other major areas in the country were graced by the likes of the Moszkvics, Pobjeda, Polski, Skoda, Tatra, Trabant, Volga, Warszawa, Wartburg, Zaporozsec, Zastava, and the Zsiguli.
Of all these vehicles, the Trabant deserves more than a fleeting mention, because when it comes to the chronicles of the motor car, it is a larger than life icon of the encapsulated communist transport system. Besides its rightful presence in the National Museum.
At the main entrance of the park, visitors are greeted by a solitary Trabant, sitting silently in an open space and silhouetted by the shadows of huge statues of famous personalities from the labour movement, soldiers of the Red Army, and gigantic pieces of Lenin, Marx, Engels, Dimitrov, Bela Kun and other 'heroes' of the communist world.
This stunning historic site - a collection of public statues and memorials removed from the streets of Budapest after the collapse of socialism in 1989-1990 and saved for prosperity - presents a chilling glimpse of life behind the Iron Curtain.
Dwarfed by these static statues, the Trabant is very much at home in the park: the car, whose Latin name means 'companion', was more than a fellow traveller in those times. The car used to be produced in Zwickau, in the former German Democratic Republic. It was the most common car to be found in communist countries. Originally planned as a three-wheeled motorcycle, the Trabant was eventually transformed into a vehicle for four adults plus baggage.
It was fast, light, compact, economical and durable. Despite its poor performance, and a smoky two-stroke engine which generated much pollution, it is still regarded with a degree of affection as one of the few positive things to have come out of communism!
Over a 30-year period, over three million Trabants were produced, without any significant change or alteration in their basic production. The long waiting lists for buyers of the car, was produced in two versions, the P50 (1957-1963), and the P601 (1963-1991). The Trabant's body was made of Duroplast, pressed plastic units containing resin strengthened by wool, cotton and paper.
Now eagerly sought after as a classic car collector's item, the Trabant - described as a lunchbox with the motor of a lawnmower - has also been immortalised by the popular rock group, U2, who used Trabants suspended in the air for their Zoo TV tour, on the cover of their Achtung Baby album, and in the video for the hit single One. And these cars have a way of intermittently battering their hard head right into the world headlines: a CNN news item in early March gave prominence to a convoy of 30 classic Trabants which had arrived in Thailand, having been driven overland all the way from Germany to raise funds for a children's charity.
With the fall of communism in the late 1980s, motoring in Hungary began to breathe again without undue restrictions, with privatisation and a free market economy providing a wide choice of vehicles to select from.
This has resulted in the near demise and disappearance from the roads of the previously omnipresent socialist stereotype marques. All these interesting facets of history are very well documented in the National Transport Museum.
The museum incorporates a large, classroom-like section, equipped with whiteboards and benches, aimed at schoolchildren. Here groups of students can draw, discuss and carry out transport-related projects, assisted by their teachers and museum staff. When I visited, the place was teeming with enthusiastic youngsters. The hallowed halls and their antique inhabitants seemed to have been injected with a new lease of life, permeating from the stimulating interaction of the young people.
As I made my way out late in the day, I could not help wondering what a huge impact a national transport museum in Malta could have on various sections of society, be it tourism, education, or culture. This idea has been mooted on several occasions by various people, plans have been proposed and even drawn up, and the authorities actively alerted.
Yet we still revel in our fragmented state of mind, happy with the status quo, resulting in various far flung and diverse set-ups for our chequered and unique transport history, be it maritime, aviation, and old cars and motorcycles, all under different roofs. When will it all come together under one roof?
• Joe Busuttil is public relations officer of the Old Motors Club
http://www.oldmotorsclub.com, info@oldmotorsclub.com
The museum, set up in 1896 in connection with the Millennium Exhibition, houses one of Europe's oldest transport collections. The original railway section has evolved to become a seamless exhibition of relics, traditions and history of bicycles, motor cycles, motor cars, shipping, aviation, and space travel, all organised meticulously and spread over various storeys. When I visited the museum in early March, there was a special exhibition to celebrate 50 years of man's adventures in space, starting with the launching of a Russian Sputnik in 1957.
Various rockets and spaceships, belonging to lunar missions both manned and unmanned, were displayed in one of the halls.
There were a variety of 19th century horse-drawn omnibuses, a unique collection of wooden bicycles made between 1820 and 1870 before the arrival of the penny farthing, and a fleet of 30 old motorcycles, among which two rare 1907 and 1912 Puchs stood out.
I spent most of my visit touring in the automobile section, which is closely linked with the triumphs, trials and tribulations of Hungary's development.
Motor traffic in Hungary began in 1895, with the registration of the first ever motor car, and five years later the Hungarian Automobile Club - instrumental in the evolution of local motoring - was founded. As part of the prosperous Austrian Hungarian Empire, traffic soon boomed, and this is reflected in a variety of old models on show, including a 1898 and 1901 Peugeot, a 1902 Opel Darracq, and a 1905 Csonka.
The economy took a turn for the worse after World War I, a situation which continued with the onset of the great depression in the 1920s. However, in the 1930s, Hungary saw an economic revival, clearly demonstrated by the fact that all the major European and American car manufacturers began to set up sales agencies in the country. Ford, Austin, BMW and Lanca were some of the big names which set up shop there, and some of their brands also grace the automobile hall. By 1939, there were more than 18,000 registered cars in Hungary, and the country could boast of having established a modern motoring service network.
However, World War II saw the complete destruction of the whole fleet of motor vehicles, trucks and buses.
Transportation of goods was entrusted to horse-drawn carriages. After the hostilities ceased, the transport system was overhauled, and under communist rule, all private companies were nationalised.
In 1949, a national motoring plan saw the restart of importation of new cars.
But the picture now was totally different. With centralisation and the tightening of the economy, there were only 8,500 registered cars in Hungary in 1950, and they were restricted to a collection of difficult-to-pronounce names, most of which today form part of the history of communist cars. The streets of Buda, Pest and other major areas in the country were graced by the likes of the Moszkvics, Pobjeda, Polski, Skoda, Tatra, Trabant, Volga, Warszawa, Wartburg, Zaporozsec, Zastava, and the Zsiguli.
Of all these vehicles, the Trabant deserves more than a fleeting mention, because when it comes to the chronicles of the motor car, it is a larger than life icon of the encapsulated communist transport system. Besides its rightful presence in the National Museum.
At the main entrance of the park, visitors are greeted by a solitary Trabant, sitting silently in an open space and silhouetted by the shadows of huge statues of famous personalities from the labour movement, soldiers of the Red Army, and gigantic pieces of Lenin, Marx, Engels, Dimitrov, Bela Kun and other 'heroes' of the communist world.
This stunning historic site - a collection of public statues and memorials removed from the streets of Budapest after the collapse of socialism in 1989-1990 and saved for prosperity - presents a chilling glimpse of life behind the Iron Curtain.
Dwarfed by these static statues, the Trabant is very much at home in the park: the car, whose Latin name means 'companion', was more than a fellow traveller in those times. The car used to be produced in Zwickau, in the former German Democratic Republic. It was the most common car to be found in communist countries. Originally planned as a three-wheeled motorcycle, the Trabant was eventually transformed into a vehicle for four adults plus baggage.
It was fast, light, compact, economical and durable. Despite its poor performance, and a smoky two-stroke engine which generated much pollution, it is still regarded with a degree of affection as one of the few positive things to have come out of communism!
Over a 30-year period, over three million Trabants were produced, without any significant change or alteration in their basic production. The long waiting lists for buyers of the car, was produced in two versions, the P50 (1957-1963), and the P601 (1963-1991). The Trabant's body was made of Duroplast, pressed plastic units containing resin strengthened by wool, cotton and paper.
Now eagerly sought after as a classic car collector's item, the Trabant - described as a lunchbox with the motor of a lawnmower - has also been immortalised by the popular rock group, U2, who used Trabants suspended in the air for their Zoo TV tour, on the cover of their Achtung Baby album, and in the video for the hit single One. And these cars have a way of intermittently battering their hard head right into the world headlines: a CNN news item in early March gave prominence to a convoy of 30 classic Trabants which had arrived in Thailand, having been driven overland all the way from Germany to raise funds for a children's charity.
With the fall of communism in the late 1980s, motoring in Hungary began to breathe again without undue restrictions, with privatisation and a free market economy providing a wide choice of vehicles to select from.
This has resulted in the near demise and disappearance from the roads of the previously omnipresent socialist stereotype marques. All these interesting facets of history are very well documented in the National Transport Museum.
The museum incorporates a large, classroom-like section, equipped with whiteboards and benches, aimed at schoolchildren. Here groups of students can draw, discuss and carry out transport-related projects, assisted by their teachers and museum staff. When I visited, the place was teeming with enthusiastic youngsters. The hallowed halls and their antique inhabitants seemed to have been injected with a new lease of life, permeating from the stimulating interaction of the young people.
As I made my way out late in the day, I could not help wondering what a huge impact a national transport museum in Malta could have on various sections of society, be it tourism, education, or culture. This idea has been mooted on several occasions by various people, plans have been proposed and even drawn up, and the authorities actively alerted.
Yet we still revel in our fragmented state of mind, happy with the status quo, resulting in various far flung and diverse set-ups for our chequered and unique transport history, be it maritime, aviation, and old cars and motorcycles, all under different roofs. When will it all come together under one roof?
• Joe Busuttil is public relations officer of the Old Motors Club
http://www.oldmotorsclub.com, info@oldmotorsclub.com